


Phil Coulson Can Handle Werewolves

by Yaoiloverread



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Keep Calm and Phil Coulson, Phil Coulson is a BAMF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 10:58:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 10,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yaoiloverread/pseuds/Yaoiloverread
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Chitauri attack on New York, Phil Coulson is sent off to family in Beacon Hills while he recuperates.</p><p>Not surprisingly, it is anything but relaxing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. in which Phil Coulson goes on 'vacation'

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own either The Avengers, or Teen Wolf.
> 
> Set post-movie (Avengers), and post-Season 2 (TW)

When Phil Coulson opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Fury, sitting by his bedside in a pale green plastic chair. He blinked.

_Still there, damn it._

But then he saw Fury's face. He looked tired, and frustrated, and a lot pissed-off, which was normal enough. Phil opened his mouth to speak, but started coughing, while Fury got him a glass of water. He sipped it slowly, steadying his hands on the glass. "What happened?"

The last thing he remembered, the Helicarrier was falling, Loki's brainwashed men (and Clint, a tiny part of his brain reminded him) had boarded the aircraft, and the Avengers had scattered. He'd went to the Cage, and then...

He frowned. "Did we all get out OK? Were there any casualties?"

Fury met his eyes steadily. "Nothing you have to worry about, Phil." He got up, out of his chair, and made to leave. "Wait!" Phil made to move after him, not satisfied with that at all, but suddenly it felt like his chest was on fire, and it hurt to breathe. He hunched over, clutching at the hospital gown. _So that had really happened then._

Fury was back beside him, pushing him back against the pillows. "Breathe. Or the nurses will kick me out." The image itself was ridiculous enough to make Phil smile, but then he sobered. "Nick. Is everyone alright?"

Fury hesitated. Oh shit-

"The Avengers are fine." Phil frowned, not quite appeased.

"Then SHIELD..."

"Mostly fine, since the Captain and Stark managed to get the engines going again, and we've accounted for all the injured." And dead, but he didn't say it. "We also managed to capture the compromised agents. Including Agent Barton."

"Did you get Loki?" Phil needed to know, even as he breathed a sigh of relief that Barton was under SHIELD custody (hopefully they'd find a way to get him back to himself soon. C-Barton was one of their best agents, after all).

Fury cracked a grin at this, slightly vicious. "Yeah, we did. Or rather, the Avengers did."

Phil's heart skipped a beat. That, that was good, all of them working together. But Fury didn't comment any further, instead lapsing into silence.

"Sounds like the Avengers Initiative is a go, then," Phil commented lightly, waiting to see his reaction. There was something he wasn't being told, he could tell after working with Fury for this long.

"Not quite." Fury told him. "The World Security Council put a hold on the program. They weren't too happy with how the whole thing went over." Phil raised an eyebrow at him, sure that there was more he wasn't being told, but Fury ignored it.

"By the way, you have some family in California, right?"

"Yes," Phil dragged out. "You know this already."

"I think it'll be best if you went to visit them. Say hello-"

"Stay for Thanksgiving? Go sightseeing?" Phil asked sardonically. "Are you sending me away?"

"I prefer to think of it as more of an impromptu vacation."

"... sure you do." He sighed tiredly. When Fury got snarky, there was no reasoning with him.

"Fine then. But I'll have to call them first."


	2. in which Phil Coulson sees his nephew

Phil hadn't managed to get any chance to talk to Fury again, before he was flown out. And it was frustrating, between the enforced bed rest, and the lack of any info about the Loki incident - he hadn't gotten a single visitor after Fury, and no one would tell him anything, and _dammit_ he was not used to being this out of the loop...

The wound throbbed harshly, and he tried to calm himself down. Deep breaths (without setting off the pain in his chest)... _in... out... in..._

He sighed internally. SHIELD was probably busy with clean-up, but they could have at least sent someone to debrief him properly (And Fury didn't count).

At least he'd managed to call John beforehand, and inform him of his impromptu visit. Over the phone, he'd definitely sounded as tired as Phil felt; apparently they were also pretty short-staffed back at the station.

That's why Phil was now waiting at the airport for his nephew to pick him up, bag by his feet. He scanned the crowd again, before he heard a shout.

"Uncle Phil!" Arms waving wildly over people's heads to get his attention as he ran, the teen crashed into his good side in a Stilinski Hug (as he called it). Still, the jolt made him wince slightly, and Stiles pulled away.

"Shit, sorry," he moved back quickly, but whatever he was about to say next was forgotten as Phil stared at the large bruise on his face. He reached out to touch it.

"What happened here?" Stiles froze for a second, before covering it up with a grin.

"Oh, this?" He gestured at himself jerkily. "It's nothing. Got into a fight with some of the members on the other team, we were just that awesome." Picking up Phil's bag, he proceeded to lead the way to the Jeep, talking about the lacrosse's team winning game.

"You should have been there, we totally kicked ass... Then again, some of them weren't too happy about that, so they went and kicked my ass. With their sticks. It's like," he pointed at himself, "maybe I have a sign saying, 'Come hit me, I'm definitely the weakest link here!'... or not," he trailed off, seeing Phil's raised eyebrow. "... but that's what lacrosse is, basically, you know, where all the people with anger issues and stuff go to work out their rage and feelings. In a game, armed with sticks. And a small ball that everyone on the field chases after, which, I know, is practically calling for some serious 'fetch' jokes. Or something. OK, don't judge me here!" Both of Phil's eyebrows were raised now, a mild look of 'Oh really?' crossing his face. Stiles pointed at him, mock-scowling.

"I might have anger problems here, you know, and you not believing me could really hurt my feelings. Which I will then take out on that poor ball in the next game, with all my rage issues and, stuff. And possibly win the game, because I totally did that. In the last game, which you didn't go to, because you were busy being all accountant-y back in New York."

"I work as a civil servant, not an accountant, as you already know. They're both different jobs."

"Yeah, yeah, you've probably got the same amount of paperwork anyway." Which was true, but Phil wasn't about to tell him that. "Still, I heard that New York had an actual real-life alien invasion, like full on, 'bow down before us, lowly humans, we are your gods' sort of stuff, it was on the news and Internet and everything, so I guess you can be excused, just this once."

Phil chuckled slightly at that. "So alien invasions are OK, but not work emergencies?"

"Do civil servants even have emergencies at work?" Stiles shot back, with a grin. "Still, the footage was pretty awesome. There was Iron Man flying the nuke through the portal, and get this, Captain America himself, fighting the bad guys. Or at least, someone that looks a lot like the Captain America from the posters, that's all I'm saying. Where'd they even find a guy like that?" _In Antarctica, apparently... Wait, what did Stark do?_

"Stark did what?" he blurted out, interrupting Stiles' rant about the Big Green Giant, or as he called him, 'the BGG, kinda like the BFG but with more rage. Hey, maybe he'd do well in lacrosse'. Stiles stared at him.

"You, what?" He flailed at Phil. "How can you not know? It's, like, the only thing anyone's talking about now. Well, that and the team's win, of course," he added.

"It's like you weren't even there for the invasion, man. Here, I'll tell you all about it on the way back, since we've got a couple of hours before we get back home."


	3. in which Phil Coulson learns a bit about what's been happening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for the long wait, and hope you enjoy this next chapter.
> 
> [Also, sporadic Internet usage led to a couple of interesting ideas for where this story is headed. ;) ]

By the time they reached the Stilinski house, Phil had gotten the whole story, complete with additional commentary, from Stiles

("You're joking."

"Nope."

"Giant space turtles?"

"Hey, don't look at me. I'm still surprised you didn't even see any of the Avengers at work - I mean, Thor totally took one out on his own... with his Hammer, and that thing probably deserves its own capital letters 'cause it belongs to a god and everything, but not from any religion or anything, although he did do some smiting of his own.")

although the fact that he was basically on leave in a different state, while the whole of New York was still doing clean-up made him grit his teeth in frustration. His left side throbbed harder as he got out of the car, and over on the other side, he could see Stiles climb out just as carefully, wincing when he moved too fast.

Phil frowned.

"You know, I could have just taken a cab or something. Are you OK?"

Stiles looked up, and grinned weakly.

"I'm fine." Phil still wasn't very convinced, but didn't say anything as they brought in the bags. He noticed that the cruiser wasn't in the driveway.

"I see your dad is out. Still at work?" Stiles twitched slightly, and focused on his Jeep. "Yeah. Yeah, he is."

"I heard they're a bit short-staffed at the moment...?" Stiles didn't look up at him, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie.

"Yeah. That tends to happen when some crazy guy massacres them all." he muttered.

Phil blinked. What?

"What happened?" He hadn't heard anything about this at all. Had one of his enemies found out about John...?

"Oh, just someone. From the school. He went and shot at everyone then drowned himself in the lake out back." The matter-of-fact tone this was said in surprised Phil. Ever since Stiles was a kid he'd been interested in John's work, of course, as well as their stories back when they were in the Rangers. But he never liked the ones where people ended up dead (Phil definitely felt the same way), and used to sniffle afterwards, while Helen scolded them both for scaring him.

He glanced at Stiles, who was looking straight ahead, not making eye contact. Had he known who'd done it, then? He knew that the people at the station were close, practically a second family to the Stilinskis, and that something like this had happened...

Before he could say anything else, Stiles shook himself.

"Er, sorry. I'm just... I'm just gonna head in now. Got a bit of homework to finish up." He didn't quite flee to his room, but it was a close thing. Phil watched him leave.

It seemed that he needed to talk to John when he came back.


	4. in which Phil Coulson meets an intruder

Phil couldn't sleep.

He checked the time. 1.37 AM.

John was still at the station, having taken a last-minute night shift, and Stiles had gone to bed directly after dinner. Phil had let him go after passing him the aspirin bottle, noticing how stiffly he moved, although he couldn't help but worry.

Stiles' claims about his attackers seemed valid enough, but the people that beat up his nephew definitely knew what they were doing. High-schoolers would have left more visible injuries, instead of deliberately aiming for covered areas like the ribs.

He knew that trying to push Stiles when he didn't want to talk about it just made him clam up even more. But damn it if it wasn't so frustrating. Especially when trying to get the names of the culprits off Stiles; for someone who talked a lot he was remarkably quick to not say anything important.

Mind still on these thoughts, he got up to get a glass of water when he heard it.

A soft whump from next door, as something hit the floor, a bump against something else and a muffled ouch, a harsh whisper - " _Ow, that was my elbow!_ " - Stiles was awake. And not alone, judging by the low murmur that answered him, too soft for Phil to understand. He frowned. Stiles didn't sound very surprised, more frustrated with the person in his room than anything, but the fact remained that there was someone in Stiles' room who should not be there right now. He reached for the doorknob, when

"There's someone else in the house."

"What? Wait, no, Derek, there's just my uncl-"

Just then, the door was slammed open, and Phil saw something, red eyes gleaming, no, someone leap at him. He dodged, hands coming up to flip the other person to the ground and hold him in a headlock, kneeling on his lower body to prevent being kicked, but whoever it was wrenched an arm out of his grip and made to claw at his face (with surprisingly long fingernails). He moved his head slightly, not before getting a small scratch across his face (make that _sharp_ fingernails) and put more pressure on the other man's (because this guy was definitely not a teenage kid) throat.

"Woah, time out, time out! Guys, it's alright, we're all friendlies here, hey come on." Phil looked up. Stiles stood in the doorway, looking shocked and a little bit like he was trying not to laugh. The guy beneath him snarled in frustration (sounding remarkably wolf-like), and he tightened his grip in warning.

"Uncle Phil, it's alright. I know this guy."

Phil wasn't amused. He gave Stiles a Look, one eyebrow raised.

"Does your father know about this?"


	5. in which Phil Coulson questions his nephew

Phil sat at the table, untouched glass of water in front of him.

"So," he said, looking from Stiles to the other man. "Your name is 'Miguel'?" It was a very bad lie, and they both winced at the look in Phil's eyes.

"Er, yeah. He is." The other man (Derek, Phil knew what he'd heard) nodded hastily as well, after a particularly unsubtle kick to the shin.

"And you are, I quote, 'a classmate from school who just decided to drop by'?"

"Er-"

"Any reason why you came at," Phil checked the clock, "2 AM?" 'Miguel' scowled back at him, before Stiles jumped in.

"De- Miguel had an idea for the project we were working on, and he wanted to tell me about it."

"At 2 o'clock in the morning."

"Oh, well, Sourwolf here tends to get some good ideas sometimes. Few and far between, and you know what." Now he was the one being scowled at, although he didn't shy away from the Look. Phil wasn't very impressed with it either (Fury was a lot worse on a good day).

"Hence his climbing in through your window, instead of ringing the doorbell."

"Well, er... he didn't want to wake you up?" Stiles shot him a pleading look. Phil remained unmoved.

"Even though you look like you need sleep more than I do." Stiles had no reply for that, and floundered a bit before Derek spoke.

"I was actually coming to check up on Stiles. After I heard about what happened after the game... Sir."

Phil crossed his arms. Stiles winced, but Derek just stared back at him steadily.

"Were you the one who beat him up?" Now surprise shone through. And anger.

"I wouldn't-"

"Of course not!" Stiles cut in. "Derek wouldn't- I mean, he didn't do it." Phil raised an eyebrow. Derek winced at the slip-up.

"What else am I supposed to believe? Considering I heard him push you around in your room earlier, not to mention choosing a time when no one else should be around to hear you..."

"It was an accident! I was trying to help him open the window!"

"... not to mention lying about his name." Stiles looked sheepish.

"Oops."

Phil remembered a conversation he'd had with John, when he'd made his latest monthly call to the Stilinskis. John had something about a club...

"Is he your boyfriend?"

Derek's eyes went huge. Stiles turned red.

"What-? No, no, we're not-"

"- I still love Lydia, what are you talking about-?"

"- he's just helping me out with a few things, I mean, a project-"

"- we're not like that at all! We're just friends-"

And then John pulled up in the driveway.


	6. in which Phil Coulson will get his answers soon

Stiles' eyes widened at the sound of the car door slamming, hands fidgeting in his lap, while Derek looked at the front door like he could see straight through it. They both shot Phil panicked looks (Derek was a lot more subtle, but he'd had plenty of practice seeing through posturing like that).

Phil thought about questioning them further. There seemed to be a greater mystery here between the two (other than their relationship, and it was clear that they did have one, no matter the protests) and it definitely seemed like something he needed to know about. Especially if it led to Stiles being attacked.

Stiles looked at him pleadingly.

"Uncle Phil, Derek can't be here." At Phil's raised eyebrow, he continued.

"He just _can't_. Dad will freak out, and probably try to arrest him again, and we don't need a repeat of that, really." Derek looked a little miffed by that.

"And then Dad will have to bring Derek straight back to the station, and he's just done, like, three shifts in a row already. He's got to be all tired out by now, and he'll get all grumpy and stuff. I'm already grounded!" he tried to appeal to Phil.

Who only looked back at him. Then at the clock.

John fumbled his keys, and Phil heard a muttered curse as he picked them up off the floor, slow movements betraying his tiredness.

He sighed.

"Fine then," and as soon as he gave his agreement Derek was up and running out the back door (with suspicious ease). The _unlocked_ back door. Phil looked back at Stiles, who was looking a bit sheepish.

"It was... just in case I wanted to go for a night run?" Phil looked at him.

"Would this run happen to include meeting a previously-arrested adult in the middle of the night? All by yourself?" Stiles flushed.

"You're making this sound worse than it really is." Phil leaned forward at this opening.

"Oh? Then what is this then? Care to tell me?" He looked at the clock again, barely stifling a yawn. "Although it's going to have to be tomorrow, since we're supposed to be in bed by now, and I didn't sleep on the plane over."


	7. in which Phil Coulson has a heart-to-heart with his brother-in-law

When he woke up, Phil wondered for a moment whether last night had been some sort of weird dream. Then his chest gave an ache (too much, too fast), and his cheek still had the small scratch from then. He sighed. _Time to get some answers._

Downstairs, John was blearily eating his toast, and Stiles was nowhere to be seen. His questioning look was met with a shrug.

"Stiles 's still asleep. I decided not to wake him."

Phil nodded, and helped himself to some toast. They ate in silence, before John spoke up.

"So, what's the real reason you're out here?" Phil looked at him. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but the last time you came here... Stiles was still in middle school."

Phil sighed, as much as he could. "It seems I've collected too much sick leave. Nick's just capitalizing on it."

"That bastard," John joked. "How is he, by the way? Still paranoid?"

"Still going well. Doing a good job looking out for everyone too, even with one eye."

"Yeah? Nice to know. We should bring him here one of these days, give him a vacation too." They laughed at the idea, and relaxed a bit more.

John gestured towards him. "So, care to tell me what happened? Or is it classified?"

Phil sighed. "Got stabbed by a hostile."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. Popped up from behind, like magic."

"Magic, really?" John looked skeptical. Or maybe it was just the fact that someone had managed to sneak up on Phil.

"And yet you can believe in aliens? How's that any different?" Phil still wasn't too sure on the idea of magic itself, but after the events of New Mexico, anything seemed possible.

"I'd be half-convinced that it was all one big CGI special, if I didn't see the casualties on the news. Really, a superhero team? It's all very Batman-esque, if you know what I mean. Like one of Stiles' comics."

"I'll have you know that the Avengers Initiative has had a very good reception from the public." Phil said, frowning across the table. John squinted back at him over his mug.

"Is this a SHIELD thing?"

"Classified."

"OK, OK. No need to get huffy." John held his hands out, as if to halt the conversation. They finished breakfast in silence, and cleared up together.

John immediately made for the living room after, and Phil followed him, sitting down gingerly on the couch. The TV was switched on to a sports game, and John leaned back in his chair.

"How's the station been going?" Phil asked during an ad break. John's shoulders fell at that.

"Tiring. We lost so many good people," Phil nodded along, sympathetic. "And now I can't get people to take the night shifts, and we've still got to train up the newbies." He sighed. "I've been trying to do my best, but I can't do everything by myself."

"Is that what they said at the office, to make you come home?" Phil knew that John had always been a hard worker, especially back when he had been in the field. He probably wouldn't have even stepped out of the station, were it not for Stiles being injured.

John nodded. "Apparently I fell asleep at my desk. Plus Melissa called, said that I needed to check up on Stiles."

"Melissa?"

"Mother of Scott McCall, Stiles' best friend."

Phil remembered him, the dark-haired boy with the uneven jaw that Stiles used to bring home after school. The number of times they'd been in trouble was amazing, for such small kids. "The one with asthma, right?"

"Funny thing about that," John told him. "He's now the co-captain of the lacrosse team. And he doesn't use his inhaler any more." He looked over at Phil meaningfully.

Phil paused. "You think he might be doing drugs?" he asked, disbelievingly. The boy he'd remembered hadn't seemed the type - in fact, Phil distinctly remembered him walking into a wall once, during his last stay. _Granted, he'd been distracted..._

"No, I don't think so. But asthma doesn't just disappear like that. I should know, Stiles went on one of his research sprees back when they first met."

"So what... you think Stiles is involved somehow?" Phil frowned, the scene from last night suddenly in a new light.

"I don't know. But you know wherever Scott goes, Stiles will follow." And John looked worried. "You know, Stiles says that the other lacrosse team beat him up after the game, but when I asked around, Cindy at the diner said the whole team had been there that night, all accounted for. And Stiles just disappearing after his win... I don't know what to think."

"I could ask Stiles, if you want." Phil offered. _Stiles definitely hadn't mentioned that part._

"Please." John looked grateful. "Maybe it's because I'm the Sheriff. All I know is that he's been lying to me, but I don't know how to get him to give it up, whatever it is."

"I'll try, but I can't promise that he'll listen."

"Just... I know he won't talk to me, but maybe he'll talk to you."

"Are we seriously playing 'good cop, bad cop'?" Phil asked.

"If that's what it takes to keep Stiles safe, I'll play whatever's necessary."


	8. in which Phil Coulson plays 'good cop'

Phil was watching a re-run of Supernanny (John had gone to catch a couple more hours of sleep) when Stiles finally stumbled down the stairs. He came into the living room, drawn by the noise, and froze when he saw Phil. In the daylight, his face looked to be healing, the edges already gaining a yellow-greenish color.

"Er... hi, Uncle Phil." He took a step back.

Phil pointed to the seat opposite him.

"Come have a seat."

Stiles stopped in his tracks, clearly sensing that Phil was Deadly Serious. "But I need to go eat first," he said, pasting an innocent look on his face. "You know what they say, breakfast is the most important meal of the day-"

"Stiles."

"Fine." The boy grumbled as he sat down. "Just don't blame me if I collapse from, lack of food, or something," he sniffed.

"Your father is worried about you." Phil thought it might be best if he came straight out with it, before Stiles ran.

He watched as his nephew stilled, his face taking on a worried cast, lips pressed together tightly. "I know he is," he said, frustratedly. One hand came up to rub the back of his neck.

"It's just, just that there's... it's really compli-... nothing, really." He sighed, sprawling out against the backrest. "Teenager-y stuff. Just the 'perils of high school' to worry about, you know?" he tried to lighten the mood, wiggling his fingers as if to mock what he said. _Worse than Barton with an injury..._

"Like getting beaten up by a school lacrosse team?" Stiles just sighed, and slumped further.

"You were talking to Dad, weren't you?... Yeah. Something like that." He wasn't even trying to convince Phil.

"You know, you could press charges. If we had their names," Stiles barked out a laugh.

"Like that would be any use." Phil shot him a sharp look at that, and Stiles bit his lip. "... because, I'm not telling you who he was." _So it was one person only..._

Stiles also caught his own slip, because he quickly rushed out, "OK, so I might have stretched the truth, a bit. But basically it was because I was... ashamed, OK?" his fists were clenched tightly. "I got caught out by one guy, and I thought I could take him, by myself. Because he was ol- one-on-one, right? But it turns out that I couldn't," he gestured at his face. "and, I just didn't want Dad to know. He got what was coming to him anyway, so it's all fine now." _So I'll need to search out everyone at the game..._

Stiles looked away, embarrassed, blinking back tears. Phil pretended not to notice, waiting for him to calm.

When he settled down, Phil leaned closer.

"Stiles." He looked him straight in the eye. "You can either tell me what happened, or I'll have to ask your father about any 'Derek' s that he might know - It might be easier just to question him."

Stiles shot him a shocked look.

"You wouldn't." Phil just looked at him, one eyebrow raised slightly. Stiles looked at his expression.

"... you would." he amended, grudgingly. "This could be construed as blackmail, you know?"

"If it'll get you to talk, then my work is done. And, it's either you speak to your father about it all-"

"NO!"

"Then you'll tell me what's going on. And how I can help."

Stiles frowned exaggeratedly at him, but Phil wasn't moved. "It might be easier, since I'm a neutral party."

He huffed and flopped further backwards. "Fine then." he sulked. Stiles paused to think.

"OK, now where do I start... erm..." Stiles shot him a side glance, as if hoping that he would change his mind.

"Maybe from the beginning?"

"Er... the beginni- yeah, OK... hmm..." there was a long pause. "Er... I'm not sure how to begin, actually."

Phil sighed. _He's still avoiding the topic._

"Why don't you start with how you know Derek, or for that matter, who Derek actually is. I know that your father's arrested him before-" he prompted.

"... because they thought that he, er, murdered his sist- someone. But that was a long time ago." Stiles looked guilty, and a tiny bit sheepish. "Not!- not that he actually did, you know. Just a case of wrong place, wrong time."

"Right."

"And, OK, we might have told my Dad that. But only because he was acting very suspiciously. I mean, who chooses to hide half a body in his backyard? That's just creepy, right? And did I mention really suspicious?" Phil didn't really know whether to ignore the fact that there'd been a possible-but-not-really murderer in the house, but he seized on another fact.

"Who is 'we'?"

"Me and Scott." The ' _duh_ ' look was obvious.

"OK. And then after that you somehow became friends?"

Stiles looked thoughtful. "... not really. I'm not too sure on what to call it. We help each other out, when we can. But Scott doesn't like him."

"And you do?"

"I'm... I think he's, alright. A bit of a grumpy-face. Could use some more lessons in communicating with others without scowling. Or looming. Stuff like that. But he really cares about his pa- friends."

"And the reason he came to visit last night? He mentioned a project."

"Oh, that. He wanted to know if I'd heard from some of his.. friends." There was a slight hesitation before he said the last word. "And also to check up on me, of course." Stiles motioned at himself. "As you can see, I'm fine."

"For a given value of, anyway."

"It'll heal, it's already healing. I'll be fine." It looked more as if Stiles was trying to convince himself than Phil. There was a lull in the conversation as they both digested their thoughts. _Note to self: Look up any arrested 'Derek' s, in relation to Stiles and his friend._

Phil broke the silence, "Is he a danger to you?"

Stiles looked surprised. "What? No, no, Scott's fine. Harmless, like a puppy. With claws-"

"... I meant Derek." Although that particular word choice reminded him of last night. He kept his hand deliberately still so that he wouldn't touch the scratch on his cheek.

"Oh yeah. That. Right..." Stiles dragged out the last word, frowning like he knew he'd said something incriminating, but couldn't figure it out.

"...no. No, he isn't. And I need to, er, go to my room. Because I left, my phone. Yeah, it's still upstairs, I need to go get that. Just in case I've got a call to take. That might be important." Then he got up and ran.

Phil let him go. At least now he knew where to begin.


	9. in which Phil Coulson goes for a drive

Phil stopped John before he could leave for work.

"Got any room for one more?"

"Why?"

"Well, you could always use another hand at the station. And I do have the clearance."

"... fine. But you'll have to tell me what's up with my son."

Phil got in. "Keep in mind that I've promised Stiles I wouldn't talk about it with you."

"OK, I will. Now, what is going on in this town that I need to know about?" Phil paused for a moment.

"I've heard that there've been some weird things going on lately...."

"You mean apart from the station being attacked by a teenager?" Phil raised an eyebrow in response.

John sighed. "Around then, a whole bunch of people were dying too. A mechanic had a car fall on him, and Stiles was there for that," he looked stressed. "I still don't know how he's feeling about that, and he won't talk to me about it. The school councilor's tried, but apparently he hasn't opened up much."

Phil could relate.

"- Lahey, he left a kid behind, used to lock him in a freezer, which, who does that, you know?" Phil nodded, listening as John detailed out the other deaths. There was a surprising amount of information missing.

"So, you're saying that this kid-"

"Daehler. Matt Daehler."

"Daehler, he managed to kill all of these others?"

"Well, he certainly has the motive."

"And he managed to take on a whole police station? And no one raised the alarm?"

"I know. I still don't understand how he did it, but everyone else was dead."

"All of them?"

"Well, Melissa came in to give a statement. Maybe he somehow heard about that, and wanted to stop her?" John didn't sound very convinced either.

"Was Stiles there as well?"

"Yeah, he and Scott."

"Hmmm... the two of them again. Seems like something's going on."

"You don't say?" John frowned. "I know, that Stiles knows what's happening. But he won't tell me anything."

"Maybe you just have to wait," Phil offered, although he wasn't sure about that.

"Yeah, right."

They drove the rest of the way in silence.

Phil watched as John slumped down in his chair, and looked around the office. "Cozy."

"Yeah. Who would have thought I'd miss it that much?" John still looked a little sad. Phil cleared his throat.

"OK, so, maybe you could give me a copy of those files... and maybe any other weird deaths you had?"

John had gotten up to go to the file cabinets, but he paused. "Do I include the mountain lion attacks?"

"The _what_!?" Phil stared at him.

"I mean, it's a valid question. We think it might have been a cover-up for Kate Argent, but I highly doubt she could have ripped off half a bus with her bare hands."

Phil sighed. "You might as well give me everything you've got."

This sounded like it was going to take some time.


	10. in which Phil Coulson does paperwork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so as of now this will not be following Season 3 of 'Teen Wolf'. Some of the Alpha Pack might sneak their way in, but they're going to be different from the show, that's for sure.
> 
> Other than that, enjoy! :D

Phil stared at his notes, joining the relevant dots together.

He'd originally gone through the files with the intention of scanning through for anything that jumped out, before realizing it might be easier to jot down any names that kept turning up. And he'd thought that Beacon Hills was quiet. In the end, he'd managed to isolate two separate situations out of all the papers, the really curious things that didn't come across as natural. And it all hinged on one person.

"Kate Argent," he mused.

One hand tapped against her file as he re-read through what the station knew. She'd died last year, outside the old Hale house (and experience had taught him that anyone that lived that far in the woods definitely had something to hide) from, presumably, an animal attack. Wild mountain lions, to be precise. Which was strange, because Beacon Hills wasn't a mountainous town. They didn't even have _inclines_.

In fact, everything odd could be sorted out into before and after her death, although he wasn't sure she could have managed the 'animal attacks'. She hadn't been in town for about half of them. Perhaps an accomplice, or a team of them.

Whether she was guilty or not, she was apparently (somehow) linked to the old Hale fire 7 years ago, along with practically every other victim... was this a serial killer, looking for revenge?

And didn't that raise more questions, when he got around to the police interviews - _Derek Hale_ , the main suspect. He did have a plausible motive, Phil could understand why he'd been taken in. He also happened to be the man from that night; visiting Stiles, the Sheriff's son. He thought back. Stiles didn't seem like he'd been forced into his company, he wasn't the type to do anything he didn't want to. And he knew Stiles had a good sense of judgment (even if his manner of showing it was a little flaky).

Phil had met killers before; heck, in his line of work he handled them on a day-to-day basis. Hale wasn't the type to kill his own sister. Or his comatose uncle. He'd flipped through his file as well - Laura (sister) found in the Hale's backyard (which matched what Stiles had mentioned earlier); and Peter (uncle) found dead alongside the body of Argent (with only the remains of his nurse found in the woods).

No, he had the feeling Derek Hale was innocent here.

But Argent on the other hand...

She'd had an older brother, currently still living in Beacon Hills with his daughter, wife deceased (she'd committed suicide). Lucrative business in the weapons industry - she could have picked up any number of tricks working with him. Although the constant travel was slightly suspicious (he made a note to check out the other towns they'd settled in, just in case). As were the charges of loitering around the Hale house, for Argent's business employees (and it all seemed to go back to that house, didn't it?).

They also had a father, who until recently worked as the principal of the high school... before disappearing the night of the lacrosse match. On the same night Stiles had been bashed up? _Suspicious_.

Perhaps he'd seen something he shouldn't have. But then, if it'd been an attack on Stiles, why wasn't John informed? There hadn't been a ransom note or any indication that he was gone, or John wouldn't have let Stiles out of his sight, even if he had to drag him down to the station during work hours (he remembered what they'd both been like when Stiles was a baby).

So far, all he'd managed to find out was that the Argents did not like Derek Hale very much, going by a gas station near the edge of town's camera, and the constant intrusions onto private property. But it didn't explain how the attacks were done (but he had the nagging feeling that the incident at the high school - with six students trapped inside, Stiles and Scott included - was a clue. As did the fact that they'd had an Argent with them).

Why did it feel like he'd just uncovered something bigger than a family feud here?


	11. Interval 1

Fury leaned back in his chair, and sighed.

Since the Chitauri Invasion, the World Security Council had been constantly messaging him, demanding for more control over the Avengers. Where was Captain America now, why did you let him go? Our country needs him. Get Stark to give them everyone's locations, he should have the tracking systems for it. He's supposed to be a genius, right? Give up Agent Barton, traitor to the human race. Give us the Avengers.

He didn't need any crap from them, smoothly sweeping the memos into the bin (recycling, HR was very insistent on that). It sure as hell wasn't Barton who'd released a nuke straight in mid-Manhattan, population included.

Still, the WSC were getting more and more demanding, the longer he refused to reply. Luckily they'd already sent Loki and the Tesseract back to Asgard, or the two of them would most certainly have been 'held back' for an indefinite stay. And then there'd be one pissed-off Thunder God - although he'd pay to see the crater Thor would make of them.

Even more lucky was that he and the Medical team had managed to sneak Coulson off the Helicarrier without anyone noticing. Seriously, he didn't need to think about what would happen to the newly-dubbed 'heart' of Earth's Newest Heroes (as Captain Rogers had mentioned during the memorial service) if one of the WSC's spies had seen... he shuddered at the thought.

As it was, the Avengers had split up - Captain Rogers going on his cross-country trip to see how the world had changed, while Tony Stark had taken Doctor Banner under his wing; they were safe for now. Agents Romanoff and Barton knew how to go to ground (although whether Barton would want to was another matter; that's what Romanoff was for), and last he'd heard they were somehow in Tahiti, the lucky bastards.

Until then, he had all this motherfucking paperwork to go through.

 

*

 

There was a new message in his inbox when he got back from lunch (and by lunch, he meant emptying out all the WSC memos into the incinerator. It was pretty relaxing).

[Dear Marcus,

How's it been? Haven't heard from you for a while, you really should drop by sometime. The folks all miss you, and I make a _mean_ cheese and pickle sandwich.

Heard you're still afraid of flying, but it's been 7 years already, it'd definitely be blue skies from here on out. My friend John can help you, he's got a Silver touch about things. I'm sure he can introduce you to some people. ;)

 

Your old mate, Felix]

He read it in silence, then scowled.

"Seriously, how do you keep getting into things like this...?" he grumbled to himself. " _Damnit_ , Cheese."

 

*

 

In the Stark Tower (soon to be renamed Avengers Tower, not that Tony had actually asked, but then he didn't need to, he was Tony Stark), an alert beeped once, as the music abruptly cut out.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, sir, but you asked for a copy of any strange transmissions within SHIELD."

A hologram moved over at his absent arm wave, and Tony scanned the email. He snorted. "Wow, I didn't know Fury actually had friends! And not even of the pay-them-to-be version."

Despite his joking tone, he frowned. Something about it was odd, his instincts told him, but he couldn't see what.

The door slid open as Bruce entered the lab. "Bruce! Brucie-boy, great that you're here. I've got something that I need to ask-"

He 'threw' the message over to him. "Read that and tell me what you think." Bruce took it carefully, hand coming up to push his glasses further up his face. He did a double-take at the first line.

"Tony, whose mail am I reading?"

"Don't worry about it, it's not important" Tony waved it off. "It's just, there's something in there bothering me, but I can't figure out what."

"So you got me to do it instead?" Tony just shot him a look. "Fine."

He looked through the entire thing, then hummed. "Maybe it's this section here - '... a Silver touch'. Wouldn't it normally be something like 'magic touch' or 'golden touch'?"

Tony gave a mock-shudder. "Don't say that, it makes me think of Fury doing weird things. Weird things that I will not think about any more, _thank you very much_."

Bruce paused. "Tony. Is this Director Fury's personal-"

"Well, technically, not really? It belongs to 'Marcus', whoever that is."

"-private, email?"

"It was in the SHIELD account?"

"Tony!"

"What? It was just begging to be read!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, the little 'code' thing took the longest time to write up, but I thought it got the message across perfectly. :)
> 
> And, of course, the unintentionally 'dating' implications for Fury... now all I can picture is Tony sending Fury all these links to other dating sites and stuff, LOL :P


	12. in which Phil Coulson joins some dots

A couple of days later after sending out his request, Phil received a plainly-wrapped package in the mail. He frowned slightly at the size, and had to ask for help bringing it to his room.

The two Stilinskis stood in the doorway as he unpacked the first batch of papers, eyes wide.

"Wow... you know, I thought accountants had a lot of paperwork, but isn't this going a bit far?" Stiles asked, mouth agape. "What, did they give you all the work you missed while you were in the hospital or something? How's that fair?"

Privately, Phil was inclined to agree with him. Either the Argents really had a long, long history of suspicious activities, or Fury had 'accidentally' slipped in some of his own paperwork again (as if the long-distance was going to prevent him from sending it back, really).

Also, at a quick glance, the top-most stack of papers did seem extremely familiar - to someone who more often than not had to fill out various medical forms for his wayward agents while they were occupied (with escaping their hospital rooms). Good - it meant that sooner or later he'd be reinstated to his old position. He didn't fancy an early retirement any time soon.

"Well," he sighed. "Time to get to work."

\---

After Stiles had gone to bed, and he'd listened carefully for any sign of movement beforehand, he cornered John in the living room.

John took one look at his face and blanched. "Oh. That bad, huh."

Phil gave him an unimpressed look. "Yes." He threw down the summaries that he'd jotted down. They spilled out on the table, and John could see several timelines drawn up. Including...

"Are these, criminal records?" He blinked, and pulled the closest one into his hands, scanning through the list. Several things jumped out at him - a heap of suspected murders and kidnappings; way too many suspected break-ins, trespassing, and stalking charges; and a few familiar-sounding arsons. "Whose...?"

He read the top of the page. Gerard Argent.

He blinked. Read it again, then scanned through the list another time. "What...?"

Phil interrupted him again. "Read through the verdicts." He pointed at a much shorter list on the left.

John squinted down. Cleared. Of all charges.

Every time. Every single charge - from the suspected murder of two families up north, to the twelve counts of trespassing (why twelve?), had been settled out of court, or so the list said. It wasn't painting a very pretty picture.

"How...? This didn't come up when we checked his background!" John seethed, dropping it back on the table. He just about dropped onto the sofa, hands coming up as if to block away the information in front of him. He'd done the check himself, a small doubt nagging at the back of his mind after the then-recent 'animal attacks', but nothing had turned up. The stack in front of him said otherwise.

Phil nodded. "Nick said that these records were kept off the public channels." (Although there had been a lot more swearing involved.) He sat down next to John with a small groan. "Although, with this, I think we've found out who took Stiles at the last lacrosse game."

"Him?" He pointed almost disbelievingly at the pile of papers.

"It matches what Stiles said before, or rather, let slip to me."

"I'm going to kill him." He got up, and made to march up the stairs. Phil grabbed hold of his arm.

"I don't think waking Stiles up now is going to do any good," he said. John stared at him like he was crazy.

"I'm just going to get my gun. Then we're going to hunt down Mr Argent for a little chat."


	13. in which Coulson is a wallflower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I am so, so sorry for the long wait... There are some many different plot lines I can follow at the moment, although I already have an idea of some of the main tie-ins... I just have to work up the perspiration in writing them down... :(
> 
> Thank you to the people that hounded me to keep writing... This one's for you guys :)

The doorbell rang.

Chris looked up from the awkward silence, as he and his daughter cleaned their weapons at opposite ends of the room. He could faintly hear it through the door of the basement.

They looked at each other in mutual confusion. "Were you expecting anyone?" He asked her, careful to keep his face blank. As the remaining female Argent, she was technically in charge of all hunters in the region, but he wouldn't hesitate to kick them out, if they came visiting during Allison's grounding. She shook her head slowly.

"Alright then" he got up slowly, cracking his back from hunching over (another reminder that he wasn't getting any younger now... And also a sobering thought that HE was essentially the only Argent Elder left, now that his fath- Gerard was dead and gone).

He took a moment to peer through the door hole before opening it.

Two men stood on the doorstep. He recognised Beacon Hills' Sheriff immediately, but the other man was a mystery. He would have thought the man average, but for the determined look on his face. Actually, both of them held the same look. He braced himself before opening the door.

"Hello Sheriff..." He hazarded a guess, "... Officer. Can I help you?"

The Sheriff looked back, face grim. "Yes, yes you can." His eyes, however, were practically throwing daggers at him, and Chris did his best not to let any apprehension show on his face. He most definitely did not take a step back.

He glanced over at the other man, who just stared back placidly, giving no indication of anything.

"... Come on in then." He held the door open.

There could only be one reason for the Sheriff - Stiles' father - to come all this way at one in the morning.

\---

Phil kept his face blank as the man before them led the way to the living room. He noticed the way Argent moved, and the silent footsteps spoke more to his training than anything else. Definitely trained to be dangerous.

He glanced at the tensed back. But obviously not good enough, to be projecting that much. Argent obviously knew something, and they were not leaving until they got a (perhaps literal) signed confession.

He looked over at John behind his back, raising his eyebrows. John caught his eyes and nodded meaningfully, before moving forward.

"Argent," the man in question turned around quickly at that, facing them in the cozy room. John paused at the abrupt turn, before bulldozing on (a trait that Stiles definitely shared with him). "We have some questions that we'd like to ask you. About your father, Gerard Argent."

The man stared at them a moment longer, looking at their accusing expressions, before his shoulders slumped forward. He sighed, dropping into the nearest armchair. One hand came up to rub at his temple.

"So Stiles told you what happened." He sounded faintly regretful. "Look, I thought I knew what Gerard was doing, but I let them go as soon as I found out."

"... Them?" John asked, keeping his voice steady despite the anger that he felt at Argent's apathetic form.

"The other two in the basement. Stiles knows who I'm talking about." Chris shrugged. He didn't know their names.

"The other TWO?" He knew he sounded faintly incredulous, but Argent took it the wrong way.

"It was nothing they couldn't handle. They've surely healed up by now."

"... Except NO! They have NOT 'healed up by now'!" John was outraged. Stiles was still holding himself gingerly, and the fact that there had been others involved... Other, injured victims... It made his blood boil. John glared at him. "I don't think I like how casual you're being about this, about what your father has done."

He frowned back at him, mouth pulled down at the corner. "... Are you sure they aren't just faking it - they were walking just fine when I left them."

Phil made sure to keep back against the wall, face blank, as he listened to Argent's words. John made a halfway impatient, halfway furious noise, and lurched forward. He grabbed Argent by the shirt, and pulled him towards his face.

"No, Argent, you listen to me! We will be heading down to the station, where I will get all this down as part of your confession, and then, if you're lucky, you and your family'll be locked up for quite some time. Do you understand me?"

"Put. Him down." The voice was young, but steely determined. All three of them in the room looked up, and stared.

Allison Argent stood in the opened doorway, hands as steady as her voice as she pointed her crossbow at the Sheriff.


	14. in which Coulson calms down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and once again, a long wait. :(
> 
> The most annoying thing, is having SOME idea of where you want the story to go, but no idea how to get there. Well, today/night I hitched up my writer pants, and just wrote out what I could.

Everyone stared at the girl with the weapon.

"Allison, it's OK," Argent told his daughter, hands coming up in front of him. It was unclear who he was trying to pacify, but Phil wasn't going to complain. He took a seamless step back towards the side table, while everyone else's attention was caught. One hand had barely snuck into his pocket when the crossbow was turned on him.

"You! Keep your hands where I can see you," she shouted. Her hands never shook. Good training. Also, quite worrying, considering she looked to only be in high school.

In the meantime, John had let go of Argent. "Look... you're Allison, right?" he started, calmly meeting her eyes, and keeping his own hands away from his body, "Hi there. I'm Stiles' father; he told me about you. You're Scott's girlfriend, right?" The crossbow turned back on him, the arrow catching light from the room behind straight into Phil's face. He winced.

"... Alright. Seems like a touchy subject. Speaking of which, you should definitely put down that crossbow. Pointing that at either of us will end very badly."

She frowned. "Are you threatening me?"

She didn't seem convinced in the slightest. The lights behind her seemed to flicker blue for a moment, and Phil blinked hard to clear his eyes.

"No, I'm not. I'm only informing you that you are currently threatening both a police officer and a civilian with a loaded weapon." Argent looked startled.

"Civilian?" He glanced over at Phil, who raised an eyebrow sardonically. He stared, then seemed to come to a realization. "Allison, put that down now!"

The firm tone, more like a commanding officer than a worried parent, seemed to shake the teenager out of her wary state, as she automatically followed the order. Child soldier? Phil frowned. The world didn't need any more of those.

Argent must have read some of his thoughts from his face, because he sighed. "She got that from her grandfather."

"What, the crossbow?"

"No, that one came from me."

\---

Argent (or Chris, as he introduced himself) sent his daughter grumbling to her room before he ushered the two of them into the kitchen. He grabbed two glasses.

"Would you like a drink?"

"Water'll be fine."

"Thanks."

Everyone sat down, water in hand. There was a momentary pause, as no one knew how to start.

"I won't be bringing any charges against Allison for that stunt with the weapon," John started. "Phil?"

He nodded in agreement, and Chris let out a breath. "Thank you. I... Sorry about that. We're still on edge after what happened to Victoria... Allison can get a little... protective."

John stared straight at him, before his shoulders relaxed. "Well, as long as you keep her in line. If she's that on edge it might not be the wisest choice to hand her any weapon, especially if she's going to point it at civilians."

Chris frowned at him. "I can't do that." At their incredulous looks, he sat back. "I can't. It's the family business."

"Oh, you mean like murder, arson, and jaywalking?"

"What are you talking about?" He was trying to hide his reaction, but they still caught the apprehension in his eyes before his face went blank.

Phil thought that it might be time to step in. "We meant these."

And swung the files up much harder than he'd expected. The bag hit the table with a huge thump, and nearly whacked John across the face. "Sorry."

"These are...?" Chris couldn't help reaching out to touch the topmost folder.

"Records. More specifically, records of your family's many, MANY trips within the USA, that have coincided with a series of crimes being committed. Now, we were planning on making this a private visit at first, but now we're a bit more curious about the two people that you mentioned earlier. Would you like to come on down to the station with us?"


	15. in which a few familiar faces appear at the station

The two of them watched Argent through the one-way window. He had his arms crossed, and looked to be getting quite impatient. Out in the corridor, his daughter looked equally as impatient with the hold-up.

They waited until they were fully enclosed in John's office before they said anything else.

"So he's refusing to talk." Somehow Phil wasn't surprised. After his slip-up he'd refused to speak anymore, silently following them in. The only odd thing was that he'd refused to call his lawyer, somehow preferring to wait overnight until he could be bailed out.

"We'll have to get Stiles in, to corroborate what he'd said before."

"NO."

"John-"

"I don't want my son anywhere near this man."

"Neither do I. But if we can get Stiles to confirm that he was aiding and abetting, then we can find out what's really going on."

"... shit." John sighed, one hand coming up to rub at his face tiredly. His shoulders slumped downwards, before he looked at his watch. "Alright."

\---

Stiles hadn't come alone.

'Really?' John's expression seemed to say, as the two boys came to a halt near him.

"Hi Sheriff."

"Scott." John looked between the two of them, at the way Stiles had gripped Scott's wrist tightly, and the way that Scott didn't seem to be affected by it. He was now looking beyond them, to where the Argent girl sat, with a dreamy smile on his face. She, on the other hand, didn't look just pleased to see him.

The two Stilinski's exchanged a look - one incredulous, one resigned.

"Right then, into my office."

He led the way, trying to ignore Stiles dragging Scott along behind him. Behind them, Allison checked her phone again.

\---

The two boys sat in front of his desk, and John watched as they tried not to look back at Phil, who was flipping through some missing persons files on the cabinet.

"Stiles," he asked. "When we went to Mr Argent's house, he claimed that there had been two other people in the basement with you."

Stiles went pale. Beside him, Scott looked confused.

"This was during the lacrosse game that you'd disappeared from. Do you know who he might have been talking about?" Stiles shook his head. He was staring down at his knees, and refusing to look up at either of them.

"Stiles..." John came out from behind his desk, and crouched down by his son to see his expression. "Please. We need to confirm this."

"Why?" he asked, belligerent. Phil came up behind him, one hand coming up to thump lightly against the back of the chair. Stiles flinched.

Scott grabbed at his chair, hard. He was staring at Stiles, a faint hint of realization coming through.

Phil answered. "We need this, so that we can obtain a search warrant for his house. We might still be able to find some clues about your missing schoolmates."

Scott jumped. "This is about Erica and Boyd?" He turned a betrayed glance at Stiles. "Dude, why didn't you say anything earlier, if you knew?"

Stiles stilled, before looking up. He glared at Scott. "Excuse me?"

Scott backed up, but by then it was too late.

"Say anything? I have! Multiple times even... and if you weren't so hung up over ALLISON you might have even heard me!"

"Allison has nothing to do with this!"

"Oh really...? Is that what she told you?"

"She doesn't need to tell me anything... I just know it!"

"Oh, grow up Scott! She tried to shoot you!"

"It was an accident, she didn't mean it."

"I think "Stay away from me, Scott" might be a bit of a clue. Not to mention, the crossbow."

"Well... you're just jealous!"

John tried to intervene, but Phil gave him a look.

"Oh yes, so jealous... I've always wanted a girlfriend who tortures people."

"Yeah? Well, Lydia seems like the type."

"Oh-... you went there, huh?" And then Stiles leapt for Scott, and the two grown-ups were forced to intervene.

"Right then," John huffed, grabbing hold of Stiles' arm. Phil held back on Scott's shoulders, which surprisingly took more effort than thought. "Scott... go home. We'll talk to you tomorrow. Stiles, stay. Seems like we've got some things to talk about." He ignored both boys' "Oh Shit" expressions, pushing Scott gently towards the door.

He looked at Phil. "Could you walk him to the door? Just so that we don't have to worry about crossbow attacks from any ex-girlfriends." Phil nodded, and exited.

Behind him, he could hear John. "What is going ON, Stiles?" He sounded weary, but Stiles was already close to the edge. Someone was going to spill something, and soon.

\---

Back in the corridor, Allison was hugging an older male. "Thanks for coming," she seemed relieved, at least until she caught sight of the two of them in the hallway. "... Scott."

"Allison." He stared back at her, heart in his eyes. She looked somewhat reluctant to turn away.

Phil turned away from the teenage drama. "Excuse me, and you are...?"

The man turned around. "At ease, Coulson. I'm glad to see that you've recovered, from Fury's last report."

Phil blinked, before startling up and near-saluting. "Sir!" He ignored the two teenagers staring at them.

Because before him was Alexander Pierce, member of the World Security Council.


	16. in which the Argents walk free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahaha time flies so fast when you're busy reading fic...
> 
> ... I am so sorry for the long wait. And, sorry in advance for the other future long waits, if this time is any indication :(
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's stuck by this fic, and me. I hope that you enjoy this next chapter.

The two of them had taken over one of the smaller break rooms, leaving the two teenagers to awkwardly ignore and stare at each other in turn.

"Sir," Coulson started, then trailed off. That he'd meet one of the WSC here... "Can I ask...?"

"What I'm doing here, you mean?" Pierce smiled. "I'd heard that my favorite nephew had been arrested, and since I happened to be in the area, I thought come and see what the issue was."

"He wasn't arrested, he just agreed to come in for questioning."

"Hence the call for a lawyer."

"He changed his mind halfway through."

"Apparently so."

"Yes." Coulson paused again. "So you just happened to be in the area?"

"Is this an official inquiry?" The mildly joking tone made him frown. He couldn't claim to know Director Pierce very well, so this over-friendliness was a bit odd. "No need to look like that Agent. Just trying to be friendly."

"... Of course, sir."

"And no need to be so formal... can I call you Phillip?"

"If you'd like."

"Phillip... Hmm, I wonder what makes Nick so fond of you."

"I wouldn't know, sir."

"If you must know why I was here, I had heard that a cousin of mine was recently admitted to a hospital in this region."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Cancer, if you must know."

"My condolences."

"Quite."

\---

Outside the room, Scott had once again turned back to look at Allison with his heart in his eyes, while she tried her best to ignore him by focusing on the closed door. Stiles had long since disappeared into the staff room in search of cookies, citing "too much UST".

John looked at them, then at the tense man seated right by his daughter who was currently giving Scott a vicious death glare to no effect. He sighed. _My kids are both as bad as each other..._

"Scott, why don't you come sit by me for a while?" Scott's shoulders drooped, and he got up. Argent didn't relax, but there was a calmer air about him as Scott sat further down. Allison was studiously looking at the closest work desk instead, silently counting the pencils.

The door opened then, and they all straightened up. The older man stepped through, before turning back.

"Thank you very much, Phillip." He told the bemused figure. "I look forward to talking with you next time."

That said, he headed for the door, stray Argents following behind him. He nodded to John as he left. "Sheriff."

After the door had closed behind them, John turned to Phil. "We're just letting him go?" He was outraged.

The first clue into the two missing teenagers (as they had been verbally confirmed earlier) had just up and left, and Phil had just let it happen.

For his part, Phil was frowning slightly. "What is it?"

"Something's not right here-"

"I could have told you that." John butted in.

"-seems like one hell of a coincidence that a WSC member would be in the area, don't you think?"

Scott piped up then, face scrunched up in thought. "What's the WCS?"

"None of your business." John told him, eyebrow arched. "Why don't you go and find Stiles? I'm sure he's looking for you."

"OK." Scott dragged his feet, and John waited until he was out of sight before he prompted Phil to keep talking.

"Look," Phil kept his voice down so no one else could hear them. "Fury asked me to keep on the down low while he sorted everything out. He wouldn't have let anyone know my status, just in case people get sent after me."

"Your point being?"

"Well, he's hardly going to put down my location on paper. You know what he's like."

"Yeah. 'The only way to keep a secret is to not let on that you **have**  a secret.' "

"Precisely. So how the hell did Pierce know that I'm here?"


End file.
